


Autumn

by manu89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Lie Low At Lupin's (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22504171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manu89/pseuds/manu89
Summary: How do you deal with a festering guilt? The things Remus wishes he could say to Sirius.
Kudos: 5





	Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and world belong to J.K. Rowling.

You were a wild thing when you came back to me. A trapped animal, ready to lash out. You had spent a decade as Padfoot and forgot how to be human. But even Padfoot had changed. He used to be such a sweet, cuddly thing. Now he had tasted blood and was matted with tics. He snarled and flashed his canines at the slightest sound. Like you, he lusted for revenge. For wormtail.. wormtail.. worm.. tail..

I often think that James, Lily and I have failed you. This is not what friendship does. Friends don’t drive their friends mad and leave them to rot. I will never forgive myself. I hope you don’t either.

You wouldn’t sleep in a bed when you first came back - the soft mattress made you uneasy. You slept in dog form because Sirius had nightmares. Every night, Padfoot would curl up by the drafty sitting room window and shiver in the icy wind.

It took you a long time to get used to having another person around you. It took you a long time to get used to being indoors. Your mind was still stuck in a jail cell, half a continent away.

Fuck, we really did a number on you, didn’t we? Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, McGonagall and I - the “survivors”. We were supposed to have known you – our fellow comrade, brother-in-arms. Why was I blind to the truth for so long? I am so fucking sorry. I betrayed you, and I am ashamed to admit that after a decade, I moved on. I forgot about you.

You were too restless to stay inside, so we went trekking for weeks. I packed a rucksack with food and some camping gear. You still remained as Padfoot. We walked through farms, past docile sheep, goats and pigs, across open lazy brooks and dark dense forests. We waded through ankle deep mud and cow shit, and then wiped it off in lush grass. We were drenched by the rain, then dried by the sun. I lost track of time; the days blurred. I guessed our direction by checking the position of my shadow. I heard only my breath, your paws and the wind. It could have been meditative; had I not been so wracked with guilt. Is this what it was like for you on the run? Silence and wilderness?

One bright afternoon, you settled under the shade of a willow and shifted into Sirius. You stretched out on the grass, arms crossed behind your head, eyes shut. I don’t know if you were sleeping, thinking, or just enjoying the breeze. It was the first time I had seen your human form. I tried not to stare, but I’m sure you felt my gaze. I tried to keep my tears silent though. You were emaciated - the protruding wrists, ankles and collar made my heart ache. There were deep lines in your forehead. Your skin was ashen. God - those terrible runes you burned were the only colour you had. And yet, I was so glad to see you.

That summer, Wales was uncharted territory. We ate wild berries and bread that I had packed weeks ago. We walked endlessly, until one day, you said you were tired of wandering, and we just apparated back home. You allowed me to drag my duvet over and sleep with you on the floor. But three hundred or so lunations have not been kind to my body, and I had to return to my mattress. I woke to find Padfoot curled up with me. Thank you for that.

By and by, you came back to yourself. You had to learn to sit at a table and use a knife and fork. Walburga must have rolled in her grave thinking about at all those wasted etiquette lessons. Rest in pieces, bitch. At first, it was hard for you to focus long enough to read, but soon you worked your way through my Jeeves and Wooster collection. You are suspicious of new technology, and I suspect, a little afraid of it. You didn’t like the cassette player, so I went up to the attic and spent an afternoon trying to find Da’s turntable and records. You remembered how to change the cartridge better than I did.

The needle’s drop and hiss brought me back to Gryffindor tower and our childhood. Back to an era I tried to forget. Bowie and Pink Floyd, the Sex Pistols and the Clash. The Doors, the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac and Queen. And, God help us, James’ damned ABBA. Echos, on repeat, over and over again - Floyd seemed to ground you. Your magic became less frantic, which I hope you’ll agree happened in time – your outbursts had smashed almost all of Mam’s crockery.

Slowly, slowly, the wildness in you receded. You spend more time as Sirius than Padfoot but you’re still depressed. You try to hide your feelings, but I can sense them, I understand. We don’t talk about it yet.

We are cordial - strangers sharing a living space. It is better than silence, but being next to you reminds me of our boyhood. I miss that easy familiarity and banter. We pretend that we hadn’t been brothers. Sirius, we have a difficult conversation ahead of us. One day soon, we will have to talk. We will blame and hurt each other. But we will get past it. I truly believe that.

I believe with all my heart that there are better days ahead for you. A life of joy and contentment, with Harry and with me - if you choose to have me. I am starting to, daring to, believe in a better life for myself as well. We have been stuck for so long - me in my dreaming numbness, you in your waking torment.

No more.

Fate has played with us too long. The Hindus believe in karma - I believe we are owed a massive debt of good luck by now. Fate has somehow brought you back to me, and my dear old friend, I will do better by you this time.


End file.
